


Venator

by x3rx3z



Series: The One Who Got Away [3]
Category: B.A.P, VIXX, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-16 05:35:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7254427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/x3rx3z/pseuds/x3rx3z
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hunter : he was coming back, and he needed saving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

“Hyung.” A long, deep and resonating pause, “is that… you?”

 

It was like an electric shock convulsing in his veins, in his heart; it stung to abnormal degrees, his heart sped and punched his sternum. The temperature dipped when the colossal of a man fished himself out of the shadows, an unreadable look on his face shining at the other—he watched the man pull out a brown packet, tugging out a set of documents; his eyes flickered to meet the younger’s own before it dropped back down to rests upon the printed paper; “Park Jimin, born on the 13th of October 1995, master of weaponry… expert in the silent kill, has a large range of capabilities… still many unknown.” He paused, “however you don’t look like the one I am wanted to find.”

 

“Kim Seokjin.”

 

No movement was made.

 

“What happened to you?” Said assailant spun on his heels, his back faced towards the boy who was still so stubborn. He tilted his head to the side, and the lights flashed in an instant; there was groan emitted from the broken boy’s lips, and then the gasp of utter disgust and realisation that he wasn’t the only one in the room. Just after the noise was released, Jin lifted his head slowly and flexed his shoulders, his joints cracking subtly before he opted to face Jimin once again—a sneer lingered on his lips.

 

The one look Jimin refused to see him with.

 

But would Jin remember what Jimin hated and loved?

 

No, of course not.

 

He was already a dead man.

 

“You think I’m a pathetic little weak man? You really believe that I would break when I land my fist on his face? Min Yoongi was nothing, neither was Kim Taehyung. But Hongbin, ho, he was a fighter—I had fun with him, well, until I knocked him out cold.” Jin took a moment to pause, fist made at his side, “they have an hour to live unless you give me what I want.”

 

“What?”

 

“Jeon to be set free.”

 

Then, he just left like that. No more words were let loose… just the sound of his feet clacking against the cold hard floor. The temperature heightened, and blood finally rushed back into Jimin’s head, causing him to go weak for a split second—he shook his head to snap himself back into reality. He needed out, now. But it was nearly impossible with the fact that he was locked against the wall, and the coldness was itching his vessels. He tried to contort his body so he could at least try to get the bonds loose, but then he heard the noise he was waiting for: a light groan that forced one back into consciousness. He threw his eyes onto the male and grunted out, “Yoongi hyung!” Said male—the one who happened to be caked in blood (it was either his or Jin’s… or even Jimin's, he couldn’t distinguish)—pulled himself awake and his eyes blinked back into focus before he raised his head; there was a moment of blur, then a look of disgust when he laid his eyes on the younger’s torn figure. The older of the conscious two tugged at the ropes and gritted his teeth harsh enough to draw blood form his wounded gums. “There’s no use! Jin hyung’s tied your bonds too well—”

 

There was thud, and then a sudden silence before: “what did you just say?” that came out from the older male but Jimin couldn’t, nor did he dare to respond; he just dropped into his own lava of disbelief. It was too overwhelming, just too overwhelming. Just a few minutes—an hour ago—he was on the way to find himself this Jiyong person in Paris, but instead found himself, and the other three who were after his fucking head, in that hell hole… which couldn’t be Paris. He doubt he was near that area. “What. Did. You. **_Say_**?” Demanded Yoongi, punching every word with venom in his words.

 

Jimin snapped, “Jin hyung’s fucking alive, you prick!” He started bearing his bloodied whites at the latter, his now black hair painted his blood stuck onto his forehead like an adhesive, his sweat mixing in with the tears that didn’t fall just yet, “how many times do I need to get that into your head!?” He asked, the chains rattling as he almost snapped them out of their sockets, “why can’t you just wake up!?”

 

“Why don’t you!?” Yoongi shot back, pulling himself into a stand; a fist was fixed and he stormed towards the boy hanging on the wall—he tugged at the collar rudely and pulled, making the younger male crumble at his touch, “you are so goddamn fucking stupid, do you realise? You brought us here—don’t you remember?”

 

_Taehyung’s after me, did you know? I can lead you to him—to them._

 

“You led us into that trap down in that alley.” A pause, and then a snap that released his collar, “you led Taehyung to his coma.”

 

_Damage was enough to send him into a month’s worth coma. Is that enough time for you?_

 

_Perfect. Do take my gratitude… Kim._

 

“Why should I let you live, hm?” Yoongi pushed forth, “you lost all trust I had in you.”

 

“Sorry to use logic against you, dear Yoongi, but remember that I’m the only one who can bring Yongguk down and into the pits of hell.” Jimin took a moment to pause, “if you want to kill me, then fine. Do it. I don’t care if I die, but I have to kill Yongguk first—and do you think I care if you trust me at the moment?”

 

Yoongi wanted to start a rebut, but was cut off with another groan, but this one was lighter, like as if someone was coming to—“I know you’re awake, Hongbin,” said Yoongi, head tilted round so he could bring Hongbin’s feigned unconscious expression, “don’t fucking pretend you can’t hear me.”

 

Said male grunted out a profanity at his failure of acting, eyes dipping in temperature after he opened them; sweat was beading down his cheeks and his teeth painted with a sickening red; “we don’t have fucking time to waste,” he started, “didn’t you hear that Jin would kill us in an hour? Well, 50 minutes now because of your rambling.” He paused, “let Jimin go.”

 

“But—”

 

“Let. Him. **_Go_**.”

 

Yoongi released a groan of absolute annoyance and ripped his hands off the boy’s collar; Jimin merely staggered and nearly fell when he was let loose from the chains that held him upright. Yoongi immediately moved away from the boy to help the latter, ripping off the ropes—why were they given ropes whilst Jimin had chains?—and letting them fall against the ground; he then moved to help Taehyung out of his hold, moving to carry the almost-dead man on his back. He spun around to face Jimin, wanting to give the boy a warning but was cut off by Hongbin—“He’s not himself, get out!” The pale man sprinted just after the scream. He didn’t wait for anything or anyone else, and he highly refused to get Taehyung hurt once again. It was his mistake for falling into Jimin’s trap… but the boy was just so… he could persuade anyone.

 

_Yoongi hyung…_

 

_Never thought I would find you here, Jimin._

 

_Please, you have to listen to me—_ desperation was hinted in his voice,  _Yongguk’s gone crazy. He nearly killed Jungkook, and now he’s on a rampage to kill Daehyun and Namjoon. I don’t have much time left—_ what did he mean by— _I need your help. Please._

 

_What do you want me to do?_ He asked, eyes hardening in hate once he heard Jungkook’s name.

 

_I need to follow me in here—_ an alley, _there’s a code I can’t decipher, but I know you can… you studied codes for a decade, didn’t you?_

 

Dammit, Park Jimin. His way with words brought Yoongi’s life to utter shame—why did he even believe in Jimin’s words? Why did he believe that a kid like jungkook could easily be hurt by Yongguk? Namjoon chose that kid for a reason, but… what exactly was the reason? He’d been told that the reason was short and simple, but was it because Jimin found sanity in him? Or was it that Jungkook was too much of an asset for Yongguk? Well, the boy did master in hacking the world’s toughest security whatnots. Maybe that was it. Yeah, sounded about right. But what didn’t sound about right as the several gunshots aimed for his head. He ducked and barely tripped over his own feet when he slid round to face his 6 o’clock. What he saw was Jimin and the boy was walking down the same corridor Yoongi had found himself in; the boy’s face went expressionless, and a shirt was bunched in his fist—he was dragging Hongbin’s somewhat conscious self across the floor, and his katana was held int he other free hand—his eyes, however, were as white as uncontaminated snow. Their paleness brought Yoongi’s system to a shuddering close. He watched Jimin’s lip move to release a voice icier than usual: “give me Kim Taehyung, and I will let Hongbin go.”

 

“Don’t! He’ll give him over to Yongguk!” Hongbin tried to squeak out, but was shoved back into the wall by Jimin’s left; the force was enough to crack the wall and break a bone or two. “Yoongi!” A bloodied warning to back off.

 

Said man was at a standstill—he knew he couldn’t just give Taehyung over, but he couldn’t let Hongbin break—without hesitation, the man planted Taehyung onto the cold floor and pulled his only weapon: the dagger Jimin used, and dragged his dominant foot to the back, preparing for his leap. “I can’t just leave you, Bin, you know I can’t.”

 

“No, Yoongi!” Hongbin screamed out, his heavy self falling once Jimin had released him—his eyes widened when he saw the younger male jump simultaneously, his own katana being swung at the latter—he refused to watch anything else—he couldn’t since the darkness just overwhelmed him. But just mere seconds before, he could smell the disgust.

 

Of blood.


	2. Liberi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intermission — hints of Jungkook × Jimin

**NOTE : This is taken five years prior to VENATOR, thus it has been two years since the gang started.**

 

_—————_

 

_Jungkook was an abused child. A drunkard for a father. A who— no, no. His mother was an angel, just not strong enough to stop his father. Just not strong enough to fight for her own life; she had her life taken from her due to the… harsher beatings his father laid on her once beautiful, porcelain skin. That was all he remembered of his childhood, and now he was a teenager on the run. His father was a drug lord—one of the top deadliest mafia leaders in the country, and that excuse for a father wanted it all. Though, the man couldn’t do it without his son whom he tried to train. But the boy wouldn’t listen. He refused to listen to his own father._

 

_What a load of rubbish._

 

_The child was chased into an alley, an army of men three times his size backed him up against the wall, against the dead end. The child heard one of them growl out before he grabbed a fistful of the boy’s locks. “All your father’s hard work was just for your sake, and you’re throwing it away like it’s nothing.”_

 

_The boy groaned in pain when he was lifted a mere inch off the ground, trying to get himself back onto his own feet. He snapped his hands up to grab at the man’s hands, but failed when they latter delivered an echoing blow to his abdomen—once, twice, and then three times until Jungkook choked. He was thrown to the side, and kicked on his face, broke his nose; kicked on his legs, gained several black bruises; kicked on his—a gun shot was fired, a mere five rounds and all met their mark. The thuds fell simultaneously and Jungkook managed to lift his head to bring in the view of a shadow. It was a fuzzy outline of a man—of a boy maybe two years older than he was. His face was a child’s, and his voice, but his eyes were cold. It brought Jungkook shivers down his spine and he backed up against the wall in utter fear. “Hey, it’s okay—I’m not here to hurt you.” The other said, reaching out to rest a hand on Jungkook’s head, assessing his cuts and bruises, “shit, you need a lot of work—Jin hyung, will you please hurry up?”_

 

_Jungkook watched the male whisper harshly into his comm-link, his eyes focusing onto the male who just walked in; his face was unlike the other’s, shoulders were at a nice width, and face was porcelain—“hey, can you hear me?” A pause, “if you can hear me, give his hand a squeeze.”_

 

_The male (the one who was exceedingly close to Jungkook) reached down to grab at the boy's unaffected hand and the latter squeezed almost instantaneously, “he can hear you, hyung.”_

 

_“All right—the name’s Jin, and we’re here to help you. Your father’s been sent to prison as of this moment, so you can rest easy.” Jin explained as he tried to keep Jungkook awake – but fell short when the boy grunted out, “you can rest easy.” He repeated, “you can go to sleep, we’ll take over from here.” He saw Jungkook nod and he turned his focus onto the boy next to him, “help him to the car while I clean up.”_

 

_“Gotcha. Don’t take too long, okay?” Jimin asked just before Jin nodded at him; Jimin watched him push himself into a stand and started to clean up. The latter pulled Jungkook back onto his feet and shuffled out of the alley, heaving pants as he tried to get out—he reached the car in no time and pulled open the door, planting Jungkook onto the seat; he leaned away but his wrist was caught by the boy and he could only freeze to a stop._

 

_“What’s… your name?” Jungkook asked, his eyes nearly falling to a close._

 

_There was a slight hint of hesitation before the male smiled out, “the name’s Jimin, and you… go to sleep—I’ll protect you.”_

 

_Jungkook conjured his own small smile prior to letting the darkness overwhelm him._

 

It was all a bit cloudy when he woke up a few days ago, but he managed to learn a few names… maybe even personalities: there was Jimin, the one who saved him—he was a cute one, even if he didn’t seem to notice it; Jin, who happened to be Jimin's non-biological brother and also happened to be the one who patched his cuts and bruises, he was the warm one; Yoongi, their expert weaponist, well, Jungkook believed that he wasn’t the only one who was awesome at weapons—he was frightening; Namjoon, the mastermind… he was ok, to an extent; Hoseok, the nut—like, a nut… the crazy one; and Taehyung, the nut version two. For a moment, he put himself into a trance of thoughts, wondering how his father is doing since the bastard is finally in— “you doing better?” Was the question that shocked him out of daydream; Jungkook blinked once, looked up and exhaled softly in relief—it was Jimin, and this man (Jungkook swore he was just a boy because his face was just screaming out the fact that he looked **way** too young for his age) wore nothing but a white tank and patterned pyjama pants—there were cats all over his legs, and Jungkook found it cute – his feet were bare, and his knuckles were knackered with bruises. “Don’t look at those,” Jimin said when he realised Jungkook was staring at his battered hands, “was training.”

 

Jungkook nodded before he conjured the energy to mumble a: “I’m doing ok” in response to Jimin’s question.

 

It was the latter’s turn to nod, biting at his bottom lip. His eyes were focused onto the floor beneath, and he moved his feet in a nervous manner before lifting his head up again, mustering a gasp when the younger's face was so close to his own. A light blush settled on his cheeks and he pulled back with a yelp. “Jungkook!” A quick leap away, “what are you doing?”

 

“Something’s bothering you.” Jungkook said in response, “highly.”

 

Jimin mustered a light laugh, shaking his head simultaneously, “no, no,” he assured, “nothing’s wrong—everything’s just really messy.”

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“Just that we have a tiny bit of an issue with our tech-y stuff.” Jimin only shrugged the problem off, “doesn’t bother me, but Namjoon is tearing my training room apart to give me a taste of how it is like to have a virus contaminating a dozen computers—it’s not even the same thing, and yet he still bullies the heck out of me.”

 

The latter rubbed his neck, breathing in slowly. “If you want,” he paused, lifting his eyes to meet the other’s own, “I can help out. Fath—  _he_ taught me how to handle computers, I think I can manage the problem.”

 

The boy with the face of a child cracked a grin and began pulling Jungkook out of the place he was resting in. His feet clacked against the hard floor, a low rumble in the pipes following and alerting Jimin that the others weren’t exactly around. It took him less then five minutes to get themselves into the server room where Namjoon was busy begging the tech to _wake the hell up or I will unplug every wire you have hidden from me._ “Hyung?” He called out, tilting his head to the side to bring the said male into his view.

 

Park Jimin was what you would call the ‘special’. He mastered in most: the silent kill, long range and short range attacks, strategy and medication. Namjoon had no idea how Jimin could have known all of that at a mere age of 19, but whatever the kid did, Namjoon didn't want to know. Jimin always had this certain grace, his performance in battle was seamless and due to this, the boy had a huge bounty on his head, and it made Namjoon worry a heck lot more. He had a signature scar running across his face, a diagonal wound that started from his left temple and ended just at the end of his jaw on the right side—this scar was hidden, but if you looked closely, you could see the outline of the wound. The scar was from a job two years back, but Jimin swore to never speak of that mission for the rest of his years, but the others found out that he nearly died then, because of that wound. On a side note, this kid... he'd always kill with a smile. A smile that screamed madness: he was sometimes called the Joker by many targets, enemies, even by his own team; but he hated that name, so no one really called him such anymore. Unless they really needed Jimin to go full on crazy, it was like a special ignition key for a special cause.

 

Namjoon whipped his head up from the main computer—a very angry look on his face had appeared for a split second before he saw Jungkook standing beside Jimin—“what is it?”

 

“Kook here says he can help,” Jimin pushed said boy to the other male, trying to forget that certain look of death that was thrown at him, “bad man’s taught him a thing or two about computers.”

 

“Just what I needed.” Namjoon nodded at that, pulling himself away from the tech, “I think we’ve been hacked.”

 

As Namjoon spoke, Jungkook made his way to the main computer, ducking to check if all the wires were in place before letting his fingers type at the keyboard.

 

_—————_

 

**_Time skip : few hours later_ **

 

_—————_

 

“Should we actually give him the job?”

 

“I really don’t know, hyung. But he really seems reliable.”

 

“He _is_ reliable, idiot.”

 

“Can you _not_ call me an idiot?”

 

This man—who called Namjoon an idiot—was Min Yoongi, or SUGA for short. Yoongi was Namjoon's expert silent killer, using only a dagger as his weapon. Yoongi was in business for two years now, and he still had this certain craze for assassination. He had a rough past: lived on the streets, messed with the wrong people, moved here and there without much thought. When Namjoon found him, heck, Yoongi was a fighter, he didn't allow  _anyone_  into his personal space, so basically no one was able to get near within a metre radius. Throughout the years, he had gone sluggish when he wasn't fighting or killing and this seemingly didn't surprise Namjoon at all—but he did fancy the idea of taking lots of valuable time to dress up… as Namjoon realised that Yoongi had styled his hair back so his fringe wouldn’t sit on his forehead or blind his vision, and that he wore a black suit with a red tie adorning the pristine white dress shirt.

 

“Too late, I already called you an idiot.”

 

“You are _so_ nice.”

 

“He’s always nice, is he not?”

 

V, Kim Taehyung—the one who just came back from wherever he was… was that a bouquet of lilies?—was the group's other ’nut’. He was the type of assassin who would never hesitate to kill if that person were to hurt the group or the opposite gender without any reason. His way of killing was quick and silent, like Yoongi's way of kill. He had this small hate towards Hoseok because his way of kill is loud and slow, it really disgusted Taehyung to his bones. Another thing to mention is that, he had this undying admiration towards Namjoon: he had saved Taehyung's life before, and it had left a great impression on the boy. He never told the story, but he knew he would have to someday. Nonetheless, he was in a relationship with Jimin, but Jungkook doesn’t know that just yet.

 

“Tae’s right, am I not _always_ nice?” Asked Yoongi, a quick quirk of a brow in question.

 

“Will you _stop_?” Namjoon responded with a grunt of a snort, rolling his eyes in a nonchalant manner, “look, let’s get back on track, alright? Jungkook’s new here, and we either put him back to where he was—the utterly big mansion his father left—or an orphanage… or another place he can work.”

 

“Shouldn’t he work with us, though? I mean, I heard he fixed our tech in a matter of minutes—unlike you, Kim, who just decided to scream at it for eons.”

 

Hoseok, Jung Hoseok, or J-Hope/Hope, was the main crazy man—when said crazy, it is meant as really, really hyper. His choice of weapon, well, it ranged from a whip to a gun, but he preferred weapons that slow down the kill. Despite being a joker all the time, he never really said anything about himself, and the other members felt like that didn't know him—especially Namjoon, knowing that he was supposed to be the group’s leader. But nowadays, Hoseok would open up about his life which made the others all the more safe about him. Apparently he was gone with Taehyung to get the bouquet of flowers—okay, the leader just remembered that it was Taehyung and Jimin’s first anniversary, but was Jimin a fan of flowers?

 

“Excuse you, Jung, but I didn’t want to hurt my babies.”

 

(“What did I do to be put up with children?” — Yoongi, while pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“You hurt my feelings, dad.” — Namjoon, clutching his chest.

 

“Shut up.” — Yoongi, sending a glare of lasers to Namjoon.)

 

Yoongi rubbed at his temple, eyebrow twitching in annoyance whilst Namjoon, with a dissatisfied snort, shoved a scrunched piece of paper into his jacket pocket. It was a cold, frosty night and his fingers felt like they were going to fall out of their sockets. The leader of the pack lighted a cigarette, sucking in a light breath before expelling white smoke. It had been a while since he smoked, and he still found it relaxing. Without much thought, he leaned against the wall behind him and stopped, as if to loiter. Then he heard it: a silent gunshot. He didn't bother finishing his smoke, he dropped the fag onto the ground and crushed it with his foot before pushing himself off the wall. He took a stroll through a tight alley and headed straight, not bothering to look left nor right. He pushed open the door and walked in, a sound of three others following after him.

 

This place—where the four were currently discussing Jungkook’s not so far future just outside—was a hotel, and a five star at that. A velvet carpet of voluptuous crimson velvet extended from the door, branching to several key parts of the hotel: the counter, lifts, and the restaurant. The walls were made of semi-pure marble: whites reflected the golden lights; the blacks, like veins, reaching out for beyond. To the right of the entrance, a few chairs and tables were placed; to the left, the counter. Straight ahead were the lifts, then the restaurant. The great florescence of golden lights danced around, a soft hum of classical music filling the air as the men walked through.

 

“Who in the goddamn world would want a clean up job to be completed in the middle of the night? To be more exact, two in the morning?” Taehyung groaned, fixing his jacket collar.

 

Namjoon's black formal shoes clacked against the marble, the sound ricocheting off the walls despite the fact that the environment was loud. He gave the lady at the counter a small smile as he passed and he headed to the lifts, pressing the button with a hum. He heard a soft ‘ding’ and watched the doors open, his feet taking him inside. He glanced at the series of buttons on his right and flashes of blueprints invaded his vision; his forefinger instantly pressing the button for the 15th floor. “We never know who asked, Tae. It’s not in our contract to do so.”

 

**1596**

 

He stared at the number for quite some time before he looked right, then left. There was nobody in sight; he opened the door and a quickly got inside, locking the door; there was a total of eight bodies: six of them were bodyguards, one was a female and the last, a male; their target. The bodyguards were dumped in such a way to look like they all had different deaths: pills, hanging, heart attack, possible murder, whatever else to hide the fact that they were killed by another group of people. The female had to be killed: she watched the whole show. There was no hesitation kill her, no one must to know they were there. The male was a Caucasian — American to be exact. He was in France to attend a certain meeting that involved a sudden merge between two major weaponry companies. Why must they kill him? He did not know. It must've been a stupid reason, or it could've been the fact that the person who wanted him dead, wanted his own weaponry company to soar in profits. “Are we finished here?” Namjoon asked, quickly closing the door before anyone other than themselves could peer inside.

  

“We just need to clean him up, that's all.” One of the others who were already in the room had answered Namjoon, wiping a weapon clean of his own fingerprints. Once he was done, he slipped it into the female's right hand, curving her fingers to show as if she was the one who killed her husband.

 

“We’ve got everything covered, Sir. Your money’s waiting for you in the truck.”

 

“The truck?” Hoseok questioned before watching the other male point at the window.

 

Funny enough, there was a fire escape just outside their target's room. Yoongi got out first, then Namjoon, then Taehyung, and then Hoseok for last; all started running down the stairs. Being so experienced in escape, their feet were light and both made no sound when they ran. Without time to waste, a van was parked right in front of the stairs when they ended and the men got inside. “What's going on now?” Namjoon asked, sitting on a seat near to the window as he glanced at the new male through the rear mirror.

 

“The men just left, and now room service went in,” Hoseok went to the back of the van where the monitor was at, just to make sure he was correct, “she’s screaming and doing what you predicted, hyung.”

 

The driver of the van started to answer, “the people will think it was all mental: the suicides plus murder.” Jin finished his sentence dully, eyes not averting from the road. This man wore all black: jacket, shirt, pants, shoes and gloves. For these jobs, all of them needed to be concealed, it was the most obvious thing to do. (We can’t let Jin not have his own little introduction, now can we?) This man was Kim Seokjin or Jin, and he was the strategist, besides Namjoon (not to mention, he can cook, too), and he was also in charge of the sniper. Jin had this want to participate in kills, but at a far distance, so Namjoon placed him under sniper training and got 100% on his first try. He may look sweet and intimidatingly handsome but deep inside, he was just your not-so average madman: he could kill for pleasure, for fun; he could kill without remorse—all of them could, but Jin was purely frightening whenever he got angry. He was the oldest, but wasn't the leader. There was no particular reason for him not wanting to be leader, he just hated the fact that he had to take care of capable men... and boys. Well, taking care of Jimin was the exception.

 

“How’s the kid?” Yoongi asked from behind Taehyung, leaning to the side to bring Jin into view.

 

“He’s scary.” The oldest replied, eyes staying affixed on the road, “you should read what Jimin had sent—by the way, Joon.” A hum in response, “the money’s in the bag.”

 

Yoongi cocked a brow before he leaned forward, grabbing the paper from the fax before scanning over the few details Jimin had sent:

 

 ** Name : ** **Jeon Jungkook**

 

 ** Age : ** **17**

 

 ** Strengths : ** **Hacking and cleaning—both data and bodies.**

 

 ** Preferred weapon : ** **Swords.**

 

 ** Personality : ** **Very mature, a great intellect as well… but not as superior as Namjoon—a scary kid, too.**

 

 ** Preferred Job : ** **Protecting me, and no, he’s not pulling a leg.**

 

“He wants to protect Jimin?” Yoongi asked, eyebrow cocked in both amusement and curiosity.

 

“Excuse him, protecting that dude is my job.” Taehyung snorted.

 

“Enough.” Namjoon grunted, zipping the bag close after inspecting the wads of cash, “I don’t need to know who protects what—”

 

“You should give him the job.” Hoseok butted in, snatching the paper from Yoongi’s hold, “judging from this, he can be quite useful—”

 

The sound of printing paper was what shut the man up; Yoongi waited until the printing was complete before he read off the new messages:

 

**Tell Joon hyung that Jungkook smashed my gun.**

 

“That boy is really testing my patience.” Namjoon snarled out through gnashed teeth.

 

_—————_

 

**_Time skip : an hour later_ **

 

_—————_

 

Their feet took them to a large room: on the right was a window made of tempered glass, it's size extended from one end of the room to the other, giving Namjoon a magnificent scope of the skyline. There were three sofas that settled quite far from the window, all were caked in blood red leather, bracketed with platinum-plated metal — all faced inwards at a slight angle, like a horseshoe; to the left was a flat-screen measuring at least 80 inches diagonal, if not more. From the looks of it, the room didn't look all that big, but there were false walls on either side of the TV and the wall that stood opposite of the door. The walls on either side of the TV were doors, both measuring a metre in width, they stood about a metre and a half away from the flat-screen. What was being held inside were a near-infinite supply of ammunition and weapons, ranging from nine millimetres hand-held guns to RPGs. The wall that stood on the other side of the room... this was a room that no one actually favoured, but if they are forced to use the room, they **have** to use the room. It was the interrogation hall or simply, the torturing room (but they all called it the Butcher's). Namjoon had moved with much agility and settled on the sofa in the middle, crossing his legs as two others sat on either side of him. On his right was Yoongi, and on his left was Hoseok. “Where's Jimin?” The leader asked from his little reverie of wherever he went or whatever he was thinking.

 

Said male snorted in response to that question as he walked into the room, rolling his eyes while he was at it, “already here.”

 

Jin's face contorted to harsh distaste when the latter sat next to him on the free sofa that was to the left of Namjoon. “Oh, gosh—” the elder made a gagged noise whilst he pinched his nostrils close, “you smell like a skunk that had been farted on, then blood was splattered on it.”

 

The younger only smirked at that, an eyebrow cocked, “I was killing my target at a waste site. He brought me there in his car.”

 

“Oh, please do tell me the details.” Jin exasperated.

 

“Honey, we didn't even do anything.” Jimin added, leaning forward to bring Jin into his view; a smirk tugging at his lips.

 

“Can you guys shut it?” Yoongi snarled from his side, “we don't need to know who wants to own who, got it?”

 

Jimin cackled, leaning back into the sofa, “yes, dad, I highly agree on that one.”

 

Without warning the TV flashed on and a man appeared on the screen, holding a wad of money. His face was blurred out, voice contaminated to mask his identity but it didn’t stop the smirk being thrown towards the sextet; he shook the money he had grasped between his fingers and thumbs, that ghost of a smirk not even close to being lost.  _“There’s a total of ten million, each.”_

 

(“What a way to cut to the chase.” — Hoseok rolled his eyes nonchalantly.

 

“Shut up.” — Yoongi snarled out, crossing his arms over his chest for good measure.)

 

“For one target? 60 million?” Jin asked, sending both Yoongi and Hoseok his own cold look before whipping his focus back onto the screen, “that's a heck lot of  _ka-ching_.”

 

 _“He's not just your average target, Jin.”_  The latter replied, _“he's the captain of the underground artillery trade and a major security corporation above ground.”_ Namjoon instantly knew who this guy was: an underground boss of arms. He had this threat of security marching onto his property, that's why he wanted the other guy to be killed, so he could control everything (see, Namjoon didn't need to care).  _“I haven't got much to say about him since he's a fucking ghost, but I've got one thing that will get you on the right track: his code is Chaos.”_

 

At that moment, Jimin jerked violently and he sprung from the sofa and into a stand; his eyes were wide with disbelief; “you've got to be joking,” he finally said out of his jerk to silence, efficiently ignoring all the stares thrown at him whilst his own eyes casted to the screen. The tips of lips curved upwards into a shaky smile, “it's definitely not him.”

 

 _“He was made CEO three days ago.”_ The man explained,  _“so, he's definitely who I want dead.”_  The man rocked forward, face inching closer to the screen. Yoongi was silenced—there was no way that man was their mission.  _“You've got a week.”_ The man said as he looked towards the leader of the pack, a sneer on his face,  _“judging by the fact that I managed to stun your expert killer.”_ He added, his eyes casted over to the said member (yoongi, if you want to know) of the group who happened to look like he was about to rip the flat-screen into mere shreds, _“I want him dead at my feet. If he isn't dead by next week, or as soon as you can get him killed, I will hunt you all down. One by one.”_ Then the screen flashed and faded to black.

 

_—————_

 

Jungkook pushed himself up and into a sit, just realising the rest had been gone for ages. He was about to slip off the bed however, he made no movement, no even an inch and the door barrelled open. He could've sworn the impact made the door hinges break off. His eyes snapped to the door and he saw a rather pissed off Yoongi. A raging Min Yoongi. You don’t exactly see that everyday…. or any day. A very rare moment for the lot, and for Jungkook… let’s just say it was terrifying for the child. “You mother fucking bitch!” Yoongi shrieked to none in particular. He slammed his broken fists onto a wall, jaws clenching under the terror Jungkook could only imagine what the elder was going through in his head.

 

“What is going on?” Jungkook asked, his fingers groping at the covers that made up the bed he was resting on. Namjoon ran in just a second too late and ripped Yoongi away, shouting out a curse as he pushed the elder towards the wall opposite to the one he bashed, backing him up; the leader was just about to speak, wanting to answer Jungkook question but was cut off. “There's no need to comfort him.”

 

Namjoon turned his head to face the younger male sitting on top of the bed, his eyes widened in shock, “excuse me?”

 

Jungkook leaned back, a glare appearing on his face, “I wake up to hyung’s shout of absolute gibberish—whatever or whoever made him like this… he has to let you guys know before he runs into heavy fire.”

  

Hoseok stepped forward, eyes harshly cold, “what is it that you're saying exactly?”

 

“I’m saying that hyung should tell you guys what he’s thinki—”

 

“Chaos is a name hyung gave someone two years prior to meeting you guys.” Jimin interjected, pulling himself out from behind Taehyung, “this man created chaos by wrecking havoc to a city… he contaminated the city’ water with poison that wrecked one’s cerebral cortex. Was supposed to stop him, which he— _we_ did, and he was in prison, sent there to stay for the entirety of his life…” Jimin flexed his already broken fist, sighing, “but it seems like he got out, and now he’s ready for rampage,” he flickered his eyes to let them land onto the leader’s own, an apologetic look settling on his face, “sorry for not completing our job to the fullest— _I_ should’ve killed him when I had the chance.”

 

Namjoon shook his head, lifting a hand up to wave it around dismissively, “don’t fret about it, Park… you didn’t know that Chaos had the capability to get out of prison.” He saw that the elder (Yoongi _really_ couldn’t shut up when he was supposed to) was just about to rebut in Jimin’s stead on that statement, but the leader had caught him off easily, “don’t beat yourself up, hyung, seriously. You had _no_ idea.”

 

Taehyung went up to Jimin, wrapping his arm around the latter’s waist, bringing him closer to his own build, “just like what the hyung said,” he started, eyes shot towards Yoongi, “we made the team to catch his type of guys, and besides, him being out there makes it all the better.” He assured with a box-grin, “we get to test out our skills.”

 

“And it gives us a chance to actually bring this one out there.” Jin spoke up from his silence; his eyes glanced over at the boy who was still on the bed, cracking a soft smile at him, “you ready for your first job, Jungkook?”

 

“Hell yeah.”

 

—————

 

Jungkook tugged at the jacket’s collar, shivering at the cold that slapped against the bruises on his cheeks. He hadn’t healed yet—he also ignored Jimin’s pleads to stay behind—but he felt good. Good in a way that none stopped him from doing whatever he wanted to do. The group had split up to widen their search, and Jungkook found himself fighting against three goons that worked for this… Chaos guy. He merely beat them with a hit across the face—he had his brass knuckles which Jimin gave him just before they split—and a few punches here and there. “So, you guys gonna tell me where the hell is your boss?” A goon groaned out a profanity in response to his question—wow, so rude. “Oh, come on guys…” Jungkook cooed, “you don’t want to hear this kid whine for not telling him what he needs to know.”

 

“Shut the fuck up.” One of the men (on the ground) said, pushing himself up into a stand; he clutched at his side, shirt already caked in blood—Jungkook swore he didn’t do that to the guy—as his eyes was clamped to a close, a black ring forming from one of Jungkook’s punches, “why can’t you leave this to the older ones?” The child narrowed his eyes. “I know the other six are in the area, why can’t you leave his fight between them and the boss?”

 

“Why do you care so mu—”

 

“You do realise that it’s your father.” There was silence. “He was the one who escaped prison.” The man said, swaying to the side as he continued to grip at his side, teeth clamping to keep himself awake just for that moment, “he wants you back. He wants you to take over.”

 

“Jeon!” Said male turned his head round, eyes darkening in hate was what radiated; the newcomer jerked in horror, eyes widening. “Jungkook.”

 

“It’s dangerous to come near him, assassin.” The man—the bad one—spoke up from behind Jungkook’s frame, “he just found out that his father was released.”

 

“That guy is a bloody snake.” Jimin growled at him, “how can you just simply work for him?” He asked after. His eyes darted around, making sure that he knew where the hell they were. Then something shimmered in the corner of his vision, he looked towards it and saw a faint light in the distance, knowing what it was almost instantly. He released a small smirk to himself, but when he knew that the latter saw it, the smirk grew, his teeth peeping. “Sorry,” he started to say, cutting the latter off from his rebut, “but I can’t really let you talk anymore.”

 

Then suddenly, all the streetlights went out, and the temperature dropped. The man’s ears perked to pick up any noise of movement but was cut off in an instant when the lights came back on and in a mere fraction of a second, he felt another presence behind him. Yoongi was right there, a gun in one hand as his eyes shone brightly at them. He pointed the nozzle at them, his movements not even close to hesitating. “Don't move.” Yoongi said, staring at the latter’s head without any emotion; the hand on the gun tightened considerably before he spoke, “it’s been a long,  _long_ time… Jongin.” Then, as if it was a co-ordinated move, he smirked at the other male. Coldness was hidden in that sneer, and it made the latter’s smile drop for a split second.

 

He was huge. Probably around six-three with short blond hair, and he was dressed all in black. High-end black. Dressed in a black Gucci suit with a black shirt and a white tie, he looked every bit the rich businessman dreamed to be. His blond hair was perfectly styled and if Jimin didn’t miss his guess, those were a-thousand-dollar-a-pair loafers on his feet. Jongin tittered, the corner of his mouth curving, “hm, I have to agree.” He said, looking round to bring Yoongi into his view; he smiled at the said male, silently reaching back to grab a dagger from his pocket. He spun it round, grabbing Yoongi by the neck. He pushed him down at lightning speed and landed his foot onto the middle of Yoongi’s back, the gun pointed right at Jungkook’s face. Jimin made a move, but the older male was faster. Jongin shot him in the leg, making him lose his balance with a groan. He was about to attack again before he heard a gun click, his eyes snapped up and he met a sneer of warning.

 

“You shouldn’t really move.” Hoseok warned, eyes narrowed into slits as he smirked.

 

The man rolled his eyes, his vision interrupted by another male. “Well, well, well,” Jongin hummed, “what do we have here? It's the star of the show!” A sneer made it to his lips, “lovely to finally meet you again, Namjoon.”

 

Said leader stood still, hands balled into fists at his side. Hoseok stood behind him, ready to shoot the bastard if he were to move an inch. Namjoon decided that he could only stay rooted in his spot—he didn’t want Jimin or Yoongi to get hurt, but Jungkook was as stiff as a stick and it really was making him all the worried; the corner of his lip twitched into a grin, “I didn’t know that Jungkook was on your list of priorities.” Namjoon caught himself staring at the other for a moment. There was just a rush of nothing passing them both before Jongin made a move: he slammed the butt of the gun across Yoongi's head, making him snap him out of consciousness whilst he moved with grace, sliding past Jimin taut frame and successfully grabbing Jungkook’s forearm and hauled him away, his eyes staying on Namjoon—before the leader of the pack could even sway an inch, he shot a bullet towards Hoseok, making a bloody ripping noise as the bullet tore through flesh and muscle. Namjoon reacted quickly, pulling Hoseok behind his build as he fished out his own gun, barrelling shot after shot. The assailant threw Yoongi towards Namjoon, who was caught easily by the leader before Jongin rushed off with Jungkook still in his hold.

 

The leader growled out in utter frustration, wanting to shout after the male before Taehyung and Jin just arrived from wherever they were prior, skidding to a stop behind Hoseok’s frame. Jin made his way to settle Hoseok against the wall, the back of his hand pressed against the younger’s forehead. Namjoon clamped his jaw to a shut before he spun around, handing Yoongi over to Taehyung, “how’s he?” The leader asked as he walked over to Jimin's still frame.

 

Jin clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “he’ll catch a fever if we don’t get him back.” The elder looked up from Hoseok’s pale façade, glancing around quickly… where was—“where’s Jungkook?”

 

“Bastard took him.” Taehyung hissed as he held Yoongi not-currently-awake-and-unresponsive self. “Why do they _always_ go for him?”

 

Jimin held in a curse, planting his hand on the wound in his leg, shaking his head when Taehyung asked him if he needed any help getting up—how could the younger even help him when he had Yoongi to deal with?—he pushed himself to a stand, putting his weight onto the wall of a building and he snarled, “when I get my hands on the man, I will break him apart.”

 

“Be my guest,” Hoseok huffed, hot air leaving through the cracks of his lips, “but before we go anywhere, let me just remind you—very subtly—that hyung is down, and not to mention, _you_ can’t even walk.” He grabbed at Jin’s shoulder, pushing himself onto his own feet and started leaning heavily against the elder, “we need a plan before we can go anywhere.”

 

“Hoseok’s right.” Namjoon spoke up, tugging at Jimin’s going-limp body, pulling the boy against him, “if we don’t get out of here, we’ll get caught—hyung, do you know the quickest way out of here?”

 

“Down and under.” Was all Jin said, shrugging a shoulder.

 

—————

 

He landed punch after punch, and he was not even close to stopping. His punches, still not losing their barbaric strength, he cracked them all over his face, making sure to break every single bone. His eyes carried a flame of pure malignity, wanting to corrupt the other male with them. He leaned back, about to throw another punch—his knuckles creaked and he lurched himself forward, throwing that loaded punch into the male’s abdomen, earning him a bloodied cough. The surface of bones snapped, the surface of skin peeled. Jungkook remembered the day he was beaten up like this before. He was barely 12, and now it only been three years since then. The last time he was strapped to a chair, his mother was was watching. Well, not his mother _entirely._ She was sitting in the corner, bound against nothing—she had a bullet lodged in her torso. She was bleeding out whilst watching. He saw the life leaving her, and when it did, her eyes went dul—he snapped his head up (more like forced to with a painful tug of his locks) and his blackened eyes brought in a view he despised with all his heart. “Where the hell have you been, brat?” He heard the man say, the fingers in his hair tightening, “if you don’t answer me, I will break your face.”

 

 _You already did._ Jungkook thought but didn’t say, he opted to glare at the man.

 

“What?” The latter snorted, “got nothing to say?”

 

“Where’s the old man?” Jungkook spat out, his pearl whites coated in red.

 

“Why would he waste his time on you?”

 

“Last time I heard, I was his only way to carry on his… king of the drug world title.” The brat spat out again, snapping his head out of the male’s hold; he pulled at the rope that held him against the chair, teeth clenching, “get me my father before I actually rip my arms off trying to get out of this fucking chair!” There was a snort from behind the male facing Jungkook, and that man spun away, allowing the newcomer into Jungkook’s view… and the latter snorted in return, “looks like you finally made it out,” he paused, nearly snarling, “you fucker.”

 

“Tch,” the newcomer grunted, a displeased look settling on his façade, “didn’t your mother teach you your manners and respect?”

 

“You have no right to mention her!” Jungkook screamed, arms turning a nasty red from his admissions, “you absolutely have _no_ right to talk about her!”

 

“I loved her, Jungkook!” His father snapped, “you, on the other hand, brought her to her end!”

 

“How was it my fault when _you_ let your man relentlessly stab the life out of her!?” The younger male shouted, ripping at his vocal chords. His voice bounced off the walls, reverting back to his blood-torn ears. The echo was loud and dull, like his mother’s eyes when she was succumbing to the depths of nothing. He fought for another statement, but had his face thrown to the side with another bone-breaking punch; the worthless knuckles descended onto his face, slap after punch after kick—one to the face, another to the chest, and another to somewhere else. Jungkook couldn’t feel after the dozenth time. He was already so numb, he didn’t even come to notice that the punches had stopped. But once the alert had arrived, he lifted his already so broken and bloodied face, growling with a manic sneer plastered on his lips: “and that’s how you greet your long lost son? I must say, my dear father, you have gone weak.”

 

His eyes descended into malice, the aura minimising to mere ice; the tip of his lip quirked into a sneer, “my dear son,” he started, “I will _surely_ make sure you _feel_ every _single_ cut I land on you with your mother’s dagger, and I _will_ make you _scream_ under _all_ the pain.”

 

And he did.

 

—————

 

**Time skip : three hours later**

 

—————

 

Taehyung woke up with a start, sitting up groggily from sleeping rather awkwardly on the chair that settled in next to Jimin’s bed; he rubbed at his lazy eye, groaning as he leant forward to bring his lover into view. He reached out, caressing the boy’s cheek until the other had stifled awake, grunting out a: “what are you doing to my precious cheek, Kim?” In response to Taehyung’s administrations. The latter only smiled, waiting for Jimin to sit up properly, “what is it?” Jimin asked, burying his yawn into the back of his hand, “did the hyungs find Jungkook yet?”

 

“No.” The younger male breathed out, giving Jimin the shake of his head, “they haven’t found anything yet, and it’s pissing Jin hyung off.”

 

“Typical.” Jimin sighed, unconsciously rubbing at the gunshot wound that had itself stitched into his flesh; it didn’t hurt anymore, but it really did make him cringe, “Jin hyung’s got himself attached.” To cover any hint of a look of discomfort, he sighed again, moving to rub at his neck whilst he released a small groan of his own, “if we don’t find Jungkook now...”

 

The younger male bobbed his head into a little nod, biting at his bottom lip; his hand snaked its way to settle on Jimin’s bandaged thigh, letting go of a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He felt the fingers rake through his hair, caressing him like how a mother would. It was just a soft gesture, but Taehyung found himself cursing on the inside. He was supposed to keep Jimin and out of trouble, but that was mere impossible with the fact that elder loved to run here and there, and attract who knows what type of people (Whether the guy’s a maniac, or a vicious killer or whoever else). He lifted his head to bring Jimin into his view, his fingers now grasping at the latter’s hand. “You know, I made a promise,” he said, running his thumb over the elder’s knuckles, “to always keep you safe—Min, I can’t see you get hurt. Ever again.”

 

“Tae—”

 

“Please,” said male pleaded, eyebrows creasing, “don’t get yourself hurt again.”

 

Jimin hesitated for a moment before he gave the other a nod, “I promise.”

 

—————

 

Jin removed the bandages wrapped around Hoseok’s shoulder, still mesmerised by how it had healed pretty quickly for a wound that tore flesh through and through. He pulled back, dumping the waste into the bin with a clap of his hands just after. “Does Joon have anything on the boy?” Jin heard the younger male ask him.

 

His eyes flickered back onto Hoseok, “no, not yet.” The latter shook his head, “the kid may have fixed his computer, but he’s gone off the radar, and I would be shocked as hell if he was a mere mile away from us at this point.”

 

 _Who wouldn’t?_ The wounded male thought, scratching at his cheek. “I bet Yoongi’s doing something by now, well, knowing him, he can’t really sit down and do nothing when someone’s in danger.” He paused, sliding off the bed, “and we might as well do something, too—let’s not bring Jimin along since he’s got the worse wound among the both of us… and if he gets shot again, he’ll probably lose that leg.” He took another moment to pause yet again, “right?” The elder didn’t really want to say anything in response to that, and Hoseok opted to let it slide. It _was_ Jin’s brother they were talking about, and Jin still found it wrong to talk about anything bad. He made his way out of the infirmary, holding the door open for Jin before he heard a clatter to his left. He looked round and immediately heard the shout.

 

“Yah!” It was Jin, “what the hell are you doing out of bed!?”

 

Jimin, the one who was using the crutches and not even close to being subtle with his walk, gulped down a handful of air before he spoke, “look, hyung, I know you’re pissed, but I can’t sit around and wait for any news—I have to save Jungkook myself. He trusts me, and I can’t let him down.”

 

—————

 

**_Time skip : unknown length of time_ **

 

—————

 

He didn’t remember exactly when he was thrown into a pit of dark. It was too cold to think, and too quiet to breathe. His chest rose and fell slowly, eyes blinking to find some sort of light source. There was a shift of his leg, and then a groan. His own. He was almost beaten to _death_ just because he ran and stayed hidden in the shadows. Suddenly, there was a simmer of light to his right, his eyes narrowed to let that crack settle on his face before he realise at a jerk. The door flew open, successfully catching the boy off guard; a man of weaponry staring down at the child; he tucked the gun to his chest before his feet clacked against the cold floor. He grabbed at Jungkook’s forearm and hauled him to a stand, eyes gone harsh, “boss’ waiting.” Was what he said before he threw Jungkook out of the room, uncaring for the boy who had been bleeding out all over the floor.

 

The boy struggled for a stand, bounded hands pushing himself off from the floor with a loud heave. He stumbled on his own two feet again and again as he was pushed down the corridor. He bare feet were scarred with whip marks, his wounds still bleeding after all what seemed like hours but actually minutes, staining the floor with his prints. He was led to the main area of the building, and he quickly noticed nothing was there except for the monster of a father, and the bastard of a guard.

 

His father was known to have owned dozens of buildings, including this one. But this one was abandoned, its master lost his will to care. It was high and mighty once, but all of that was put to shame the same day his mother died. She died in this very place. She sat in the corner to Jungkook’s left, bleeding out from that gunshot wound. His father didn’t even care to use a suppressor when he shot her. Jungkook still remembered the words that left her lips as she sat there, heaving for air, heaving for life.

 

_You have to fight for your freedom, sweetheart. I’ve already lost mine._

 

He was thrown to the floor again, hissing out loudly when the cuts on his skin met ice, jaw clenching when his hair was pulled to make him face the man who stood before him. The man smirked at the child, and then he just spun round to walk off. “What?” Jungkook almost screamed, “what is it that you want?”

 

“I want my son back.”

 

“Too bad.” He paused, “you lost him years ago.”

 

—————

 

Yoongi loitered outside his apartment, lighting a cigarette as he waited for his driver. His eyes darted around for any sign of a car before he spotted it; he lifted himself off from leaning against the wall and made his way to the back, opening the door with a small grin, “Forty.”

 

“Sir.”

 

Forty was a burly man with a thick accented voice. He turned around slowly to find Yoongi still grinning at him as he finally planted his arse onto the lush leather seat. At six foot four with dark brown hair and dressed in a black suit complete with a maroon silk tie, he was an impressive sight that made everyone who saw him gulp in awe. No one really believed that he was a bodyguard. Well, with a face like his, he could easily pass off as a model. “Why are you grinning like that, sir?”

 

“Well,” Yoongi started, buckling himself in, “one: you’re looking very spot on; two: finally found a kid.”

 

The other male blinked in response, finding the second point rather weird, “you lost a child?”

 

“Not like that!” Yoongi snorted, glaring at the male through the rear mirror; he gave the man a small huff, crossing his arms over his chest for a moment before dipping his words into solemnity, “a kid was taken by his father, and you know him by the name of Chaos.”

 

Forty grunted, stepping on the gas, “I thought I would never have to hear that name, sir.”

 

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Yoongi paused, “but he’s on the loose and his son’s paying a price I don’t even know how expensive.”

 

“He has a son?” Forty nearly slammed his foot on the brakes, but quickly composed himself before he could any one of them, he stopped by the side and looked at Yoongi through the rear mirror, face showing his shock, “what happened to the mother?”

 

“Heard she was killed by him.” That was when Yoongi heard the door slam open then to a loud close. He watched Forty dig his heels onto the bench after he hunched over it; Yoongi got out of the car and walked over to the elder, hand reaching out to grasp at Forty’s shoulder, “what is it?” He questioned, completely unaware.

 

The elder didn’t shake Yoongi’s hand off his shoulder, but he refused to look at the latter; all he did was clutch at the bench, knuckles turning a horrid white, eyes clamped to a close and teeth clenched. “She was my sister.”

 

—————

 

Jungkook woke up with a start, now the feeling of loneliness daunting over his shoulders. He was stuck to the chair: hands bounded behind him, ankles tied to the legs of the seat. His blood had dried, bangs glued to his forehead; he exerted his depleted energy on lifting his head. His ears began to perk when he heard the door slam open and at least two men running in. He twitched, trying to run away but a _very_ familiar voice came into ear shot, “shit, you look like death—or even worse.”

 

There was a whimper in his voice when he spoke, “Yoongi hyung.”

 

“Yeah, it’s me.” Said male exasperated, resting his weight on his knees as he untied Jungkook’s bonds whilst another male aimed for his ankle bonds, “you’re so lucky I know this city in and out.” He pulled Jungkook out of the chair, keeping his lock on the boy as tightly the fragile frame could take. “Forty, go check if there is anyone still awake, we can’t let them see our faces.” Said man nodded once and bolted out of the place, and few punches and kicks could be heard, and once they stopped, Yoongi rushed out, “keep awake, you brat. If Jimin sees you like this—”

 

“He won’t.” Jungkook’s reply came as quickly as he shot his eyes open, trying to keep up with Yoongi’s speed, “but I can’t face any of them—I know you guys already realised who Chaos is.”

 

Yoongi snorted in response, nearly throwing the boy into the car, “we don’t care who your father is, we will end him for hurting you.” Yoongi closed the door and got into the front passenger seat, buckling himself in whilst watching Jungkook’s slow movements out of the corner of his eye, “did your sister have anything we can relate his father to?” He asked Forty as the latter got into the car.

 

“No, I’ve got nothing. My sister’s very good at hiding things, and it’s still a surprise she got her hands on the country’s most dangerous drug dealer.” Jungkook was pushed to a halt, but Forty didn’t realise. He had his eyes widened at the man’s words as he seized his whip wound that lash around his abdomen, “but I know she was doing his dirty work before she had Jungkook. She was as bad as you could imagine—I couldn’t stop her, and only with the idea of a child had stopped her.”

 

“She was a killer?”

 

“No,” Forty snorted like as if Yoongi was an idiot, “she was the expert hacker.”

 

That was why his father bred him to become what he was good at. His mother was his father’s hacker. Unbelievable. An angel like her… did his work for him? Jungkook released a snarl under his own breath, but was caught by yoongi. “Kid.” Jungkook heard the latter warn, feeling the hand descend onto his skin, “calm down.”

 

“How can I possibly calm down when I hear something like that from my _uncle_?”

 

“Jungkook.”

 

“No, seriously,” he scoffed, smiling as if the world was mad, “my mother, whom I thought was an angel, was working by my father’s side? She never even told me she had relatives, and a brother at that.” He paused, “was I a monster or some sorts that made my mother not tell me anything?”

 

“Your mother had no choice!” Forty almost screamed, stopping the car with all the might in his foot as he slammed the brakes, “she was already in trouble from the moment she met him! I could do nothing because I was just the little brother whom she looked down on—but despite her stupidness, she still wanted to protect her side of the family. But when she had you, she tried her best to not get into any trouble, but your father noticed and it led her to her death. It was way too soon than she planned, and she couldn’t tell you without having your father know about me.” Forty, if he didn’t hold in the anger he had within him, could’ve thrown his own self in the Han river. He sucked in a breath, reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose, “look, your father is still out there somewhere and we need to stop him.”

 

“I think I need to let Joon know.”

 

“We need all his assets that he can get his hands on, Chaos—Jeongmin is in the city somewhere.” The car started moving again and he had to crack a grin, “but I’m also very surprised that Jungkook still doesn’t realise who I am.”

 

Yoongi glanced at Jungkook whilst he dialled Namjoon’s number, an eyebrow raised in question. When the male saw the kid's confused look, he blinked at the latter’s expression before he had the guts to release a mere soft chuckle once he heard Jungkook gasp loud.

 

“Jongin!?”

 

—————

 

Namjoon was patching up Jimin’s gun when he registered the mentioned male’s haggard entrance. He gave a blank look (he was barely aware of who it was at his doorway) before he snapped himself up to a stand, “yah!” He shouted, “what the _hell_ are you doing _out_ of the infirmary?”

 

Jimin huffed, rolling his eyes as he stepped through the doorway, “please, you know how I am—I can’t stay in bed for more than day.” He made his way to sit by Namjoon’s table, releasing a huff of relief as he felt the plushness of the furniture.

 

Next was Taehyung; he came in carrying Jimin’s set of knives and earning a deathly look from Namjoon, “what? It’s your own fault to have your room built like a training room, and not to mention, you destroyed the original training room.”

 

“Oh, thanks for reminding me,” Hoseok said as he walked in (why do these people like to bother Namjoon’s privacy?), “the cost to fix the whole thing’s about ten grand, plus or minus five grand… it really depends if you messed with the wires and all that.”

 

“Why did you even bother to know?” Namjoon groaned, throwing his hands up at the same time Jimin threw his daggers (three) towards the target; there was a nice thud and everyone looked towards the sound. All of Jimin’s daggers met the tiny mark right in the middle of the target—if Jimin had made that shot with three daggers, it proved he was pissed, “did you get any news from Yoongi?” The leader asked, seamlessly changing the subject.

 

“No,” Hoseok said, watching Jin walking into the room as he spoke, “there’s nothing from him, and we don’t even know where he is—”

 

“It’s like he just disappeared off the radar.” Jin continued hoseok’s sentence, settling in next to Jimin to check his temperature, “and can _you_ please stop overworking yourself?” Jin nearly begged, “I mean, I know you don’t like staying in bed, but you’ve lost a lot of blood from that gunshot wound. You’ve got a fever now.”

 

“Look,” Jimin started, prying Jin’s hand off his forehead, “I know I need to play by my limits, but I can’t just sit around and wait, we need to find Jungkook before his father actually kills him.”

 

“But we won’t know what to do until—”

 

Namjoon’s phone rang and it shock the hell out of everyone in the room. It was simply a loud blare, but it was frightening when no one really anticipated the noise. Inwardly cursing, Namjoon answered the call.

 

_“Jungkook’s hurt real bad, and I don’t have time to explain everything on the phone—get ready for broken bones, fractures, a concussion and maybe a blood transfusion.”_

 

When the line died, Jin clambered. Door after door after door, he (and the others, minus Jimin and Taehyung) finally got to the infirmary where Yoongi was waiting. Jin’s feet made no sound as he ran to the man on the first bed. He drew his thumb over a cut and Jungkook shot awake, a pained scream leaving him. Jin cooed assurances, asking the others to hold him down. Jin inserted the needle into Jungkook's flesh, the liquid antidote pouring into the younger's system just seconds after insertion. The squirming died almost as quickly as Jin could take into account, and Jungkook's chest just stopped jittering. Jin move to stagger back, waiting for any other sudden jerks. But there was none—thank goodness.

 

Namjoon released Jungkook's torso and sighed. He was glad that it didn't take long for them to reach their safe house, otherwise they could've lost the kid. Namjoon looked towards Jimin (who came in like, a few seconds ago), his pale face covered with a thin layer of sweat, “Jimin,” Namjoon started, curiosity rising, “doing ok?”

 

“Yeah, perfect.” Jimin replied, his child-like face meeting Namjoon's handsome own. “Just pushed myself a bit too far—how’s Jungkook?”

 

“I’ve sedated him,” Jin said in response, “I need to close all these wounds, check for any internal damage or bleeding, and then check his blood levels… remind me to check for a concussion.” He took a moment to pause before he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “this is too much for his body to handle, I don’t even know how he’s still sane.”

 

“He isn’t.” Yoongi claimed, bringing himself into Jin’s view, “he could barely keep himself awake and he just kept repeating: ‘my mother is watching me’ ever since I started asking him what the hell happened in there.” He paused for a while, thinking, “we can only imagine what his father can do, but if Jungkook turned out to be like this…”

 

“We can only imagine.” Namjoon repeated once more, taking in a breath to sigh, “alright then, I’ll be in the lab to maintain the coverage of the whole area,” he turned to Hoseok, “you have a lot of friends in the city, spread the word out that Chaos is back and we need every asset we got to catch the bastard,” a nod came from Hoseok, and then he turned to Jin, “get every trap you have up and running, aim for sewers and high above… and the main roads,” he finally turned to both Yoongi and Taehyung after Jin had merely hummed at his order, “you two… just give the guy hell—just give him everything you have. i don’t care what you do, but at least get him into the traps hyung’s got set up.”

 

“You got it.” Taehyung buzzed.

 

Jimin looked towards Namjoon wearily, waiting for the leader’s orders. Namjoon looked back and shook his head, “you’re sitting this one out, Park.”

 

“I might as well stay to protect the kid; I’ve the fastest moves.” Jimin shrugged at the demand, “just remember you guys have limits. Even you, Tae.”

 

Said male gave the elder a grin before he pulled Yoongi out of the infirmary. Jimin watched them both leave, then the others left one by one; Jin was the last, and just before the older male left the room, he turned round to face the younger, hand clenching the door’s frame, “please remember that _you_ have a limit, too. I can’t risk losing you.” He saw Jimin bob his head towards him, and continued on, “I’ll just ready with whatever I need, and I’ll patch Jungkook up to the best of my ability, I promise,” and Jin left just after.

 

—————

 

 

**_Time skip : four hours later_ **

 

_—————_

 

“Jungkook.”

 

_Shut it._

 

“Jeon.”

 

_When can I have peace?_

 

“Jeon Jungkook!”

 

The said male shot awake, heart racing at a phenomenal speed that he could hear it. He scanned his surroundings and cursed loudly, where the hell was he? Jungkook’s eyes scattered to bring in anything and everything into mind until he came across a very familiar face, “hyung,” he breathed out, “what the hell happened?”

 

“Yoongi hyung helped you get out from your father’s hold.” Jimin replied from his side, a tight smile plastering his lips, “you doing alright? You need anything? Jin hyung said that you have a concussion and you need to tell me everything that’s bothering you.”

 

Jungkook glanced at the clock that hanged above the door, and noticed that the elder turned to glanced at the object.

 

**0245**

 

“We've got 15 minutes ‘til Namjoon hyung comes back.” Jimin said, flexing his shoulder. He glanced over at Jungkook and found the boy heaving—Jimin quickly reached over to check the boy’s temperature before he called out again, voice turning frantic, “Jungkook? Hey, can you hear me?” Jungkook's eyes snapped open wider than wide when Jimin had him by the arm. His eyes had gone clouded and bleary, but he had them wide as if he was undergoing a panic attack. Jimin shouted the boy’s name, trying to bring him back, but the boy had already gone so far. “Oh, shit,” Jimin said, wheezing, “please don’t—we just got you back—JEON JUNGKOOK!”

 

_“Jeon Jungkook!”_

 

_He was unable to move, unable to help when his abruptly saw his mother being pulled by an unknown figure, his muscle turning taut when his mother was edging away and into the shadows. “This is what happens when you run away.” Was what Jungkook heard the male say. It was enough to bring Jungkook back down and into his fear. His mother was pulled several steps back, a gun was loaded and cocked, but there was only one bullet in the chamber. His arm was fully extended and the weapon was pointed—the sound of a released bullet sounded, ricocheting off the walls and into their ears. Contradicting the loudness, Jungkook's body froze, his eyes widening in silent shock. Skin, tissue and muscle tore; a thunderous thud murdered their ears. Then that lifeless body tipped to the side, and in an instant Jungkook's scream was deafening. Tears glistened in his eyes, his shout rang in everyone's ears. The woman's chest jittered, blood started to splutter from her chest; her lips had chapped, more blood started running in rivulets, escaping from the gnash in her torso._

 

_His father looked to his son and sneered, “now I have all the time in the world to play with you.” The elder stood up, hands clasped behind him, “let's get to work, shall we?”_

 

_Jungkook followed his father's movements, pupils shaking in fear, “p—please, I did what you asked.”_

 

_“But it wasn’t enough to placate me, dear child.” Jeongmin answered, cocking his head in a cocky fashion, a sneer plastered on his face. Without much to say, he took a step out of the door and he faintly whispered a: “kill her”, and the man by his mother’s side jerked, his feet taking him faster than any man Jungkook had ever encountered. His hand whipped out a blade from his back pocket and drove it downwards._

 

_The boy screamed again, but was cut off by a hand that shot up to his throat; it clenched, draining him off from his air supply. When Jungkook thought it was all over, he saw something shimmer. A dagger. His mother must have dropped it when she was being dragged away. Jungkook made a move to get it. He swung his fist, his knuckles meeting the man's face, causing the other to reel back. He moved to get the weapon, but was immediately grabbed by the shirt and thrown aside like a rag doll. His back made contact with the wall he was thrown at, his left arm shattering at the force. He dropped onto his side and he screamed in utter pain. To have his arm fixed and then broken once again, now that was just—_

 

_“What's wrong, kid?” The towering man asked, twirling his own blade with his fingers, “wanna die early?”_

 

Jungkook blinked, trying to bring the goddamn world into focus. He was still on the bed (miraculously). He managed to push himself into a different position and looked around before his heart shrivelled: the area was covered in white. Jimin was there, eyes laced with tears and Jungkook didn’t understand what was going on. He took a breath in and saw the leader was there, too; He lifted his head a little higher, and his chest heaved in sudden realisation. He just had a mental breakdown—his vision fizzed, his cheeks starting to dampen. He lurched forward, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, teeth clamping onto the skin to try and shut himself up, and his sobs louden. He felt warm hands on his shoulders, and strong arms enveloped him as he shouted. “Shh.” He heard the coos, “please, you’re here with us… not with that monster of a parent.” Jimin held him close, blinking back his own tears. The elder, _and_ the leader watched the younger succumb to the madness built from his childhood. The beatings, the demands, the ‘love’ received. it shaped the boy into a mass of fear. The child’s eyes flickered to the clock, and his heart dropped even further.

 

**0315**

 

They lost him to madness for half an hour. But Jungkook was sure his father was gone. Just like that. Right after—Jungkook fell backwards, back nearly landing on the bed painfully if it wasn’t for Jimin’s grab at his shoulders which halted him from the fall. Tears still ran down the boy’s cheeks as he stared blankly at the ceiling. He could hear Namjoon calling out to him, but the younger couldn’t say anything and his sobs rang louder. His ears barely caught the sound of the opening door and Jin's voice shouting. The child didn't respond still; his vision was getting dark. Eyelids drawing to a close as the others started pouring in. He vaguely saw the look on Jimin's face as the latter's eyes landed onto Jungkook’s. Jongin ran towards the boy who laid on the bed; hot, dense liquid seeping out from underneath him. He planted a hand behind Jungkook's neck, supporting the younger male. Just after the touch, Jungkook finally got lose in the shroud of darkness.

 

“What the hell was going on?” Jin nearly screamed if it wasn’t for Jungkook’s unconsciousness.

 

Jimin pulled himself back, heart beating against his sternum; he didn’t say anything at first, but was brought back by Taehyung’s touch, he took one last deep inhale before he spoke, “Jungkook had a breakdown, and we lost him for a whole thirty minutes. I don’t even know what had started it, all I said was that we had 15 minutes before Namjoon hyung was done with his job,” he paused, gulping down a handful of dry air, “his eyes went glossy and he began shrivelling up into a seizure, somewhat. He then went on to screaming—shit.” Jimin stopped himself from breaking any further, leaning against Taehyung’s hold as he buried his face within his hands.

 

“Jungkook was screaming as if the world was on fire.” Namjoon explained in Jimin’s stead, “like as if he as being burnt alive—we need to stop this guy with everything we have. If we want to save Jungkook, we might as well kill the guy.”

 

Jongin kept the boy close as he listened to Namjoon, eyes staring blankly at the boy’s sleeping form. _If only I never played double agent, Jungkook would’ve never gotten into this mess again._ He thought, biting at his lower lip. His sister, if she was still alive, would have killed him on the spot for harming her son to that extent. But how was he supposed to know that Jungkook was as fragile as what Jimin had said? He was forced to stay away from Jungkook for all those years, and would’ve been killed by his father if he was even a mile away from him. He could’ve helped, but the fact that his father had his eyes on his wife’s little brother everywhere he went and everything he did was a little too hard to get away from. “This guy doesn’t have a weakness,” said Jongin, looking towards the group, “even if he does, he would find it himself and get rid of it.”

 

“But we have to try _something_.” Taehyung added, voice hinting stern, “Jungkook’s a part of this family whether his father likes it or not, and we need to save one of our own—” _For Jimin’s sake._ “For Jungkook’s sake.”

 

—————

 

**_Time skip : at night_ **

 

—————

 

Hoseok was out patrolling that night; his hands bunched into gloves, and chin lowered into the scarf Jin had given him before he left. It was a cold night again, but luckily they were trained to withstand the dropping temperature. He was casually walking in the city and wanting to check out the park when he heard a voice not so far off:

 

“How can you lose a brat like Jungkook?”

 

He edged closer to the voice and stood a good distance away but stayed within earshot. His eyes fluttered to the people standing in the middle of the park, and  In an instant, one of the men’s body jerked violently, his eyes whirring a mesmerising blue. His muscles convulsed, and his right foot was dragged back, he lowered his stance and jumped at lightning speed; his weapon of choice, a brass knuckle, was sent straight down at shocking speed and he managed to stun his mark. The road underneath cracked at the force of the man's fist, like glass; he snarled like a predator out for the kill when he flicked his eyes up at his target.  Hoseok jumped backwards, barely an inch away from the brass knuckle that was aimed for his shoulder. He pulled out his dagger and gripped its hilt, it's edge competing against the latter's weapon; the elder's force was harsher than expected.

 

 The leader sought better things to do, and left, leaving his goon to have a little fun. Hoseok watched as he disappeared into the darkness of the city his right, inwardly cursing for letting the guy get away before his eyes turned onto his opponent, chilling the atmosphere around him in a matter of seconds. “It's a stupid thing for you to do at this time of day, kid—walking alone in the dark.”

 

“I wasn’t walking around aimlessly.”

 

“Hm, but you were spying.”

 

“Touché.” Hoseok huffed out, shoving the man off his build with force he didn’t know he had. He tugged at the jacket and released hot air through his mouth, releasing a breath he was unconscious of holding, “why do you want to find Jungkook so badly?”

 

“He ran away from home.”

 

“More like, he escaped.”

 

“Enough.” The man boomed, eyes still the gorgeous neon blue, “I haven’t got the time to mess around with ya. Tell me where the bastard, and I’ll let that shoulder of yours rest.”

 

“This shoulder’s nothing compared to the harsh beating’s your boss laid on his own son.” Hoseok rebutted, almost showing the man his teeth when he snarled, “you ain’t gonna get him.”

 

The male’s frown grew into a smirk. Something in his fist clicked, and suddenly, he threw that little object towards Hoseok. The latter was caught off guard for a moment, but managed to protect his face, however that object slid through his skin. It sunk into his felsh without blood being spilt, and he didn't even feel  _anything_. Hoseok doubled-over, heaving as the chip's system was brought into effect. His eyes flashed a bright electric blue and his mind suddenly started to fail. Memories and whatever else that made him human fell into nothing and Hoseok stopped moving, like time suddenly froze. He could feel his blood coursing through his veins at an abnormal speed. But it didn't hurt. None of it hurt. “You know what to do.” The other male started to say, stepping back without hesitation. He stopped at a distance before adding: “it's time to kill.” Then, Hoseok’s body ran back to where he came from, feet pounding against the ground.

 

People around him watched as he bolted at an incredible speed, he jumped over obstacles, slid, dodged and kept running. His feet took him back to the base, and he stormed through the countless doors. He slammed the last door open and found Jimin in the room. But no Jungkook, just Jimin. The boy stared at Hoseok, and eyebrow raised in question: “hyung, what are you doing here so quickly? Did Nam hyung tell you that your shift is done?”

 

Perfect.

 

He attacked, and Jimin yelped. The sound of collapsing muscles and breaking bones became the melody that sent none to pure sweet bliss. The fight went on for at least ten minutes until there had been a sudden change in play. Hoseok held the gun, left arm unable to be used as a dagger was protruding from his flesh, it's hilt facing Jimin; his forearm was broken and it bent in an awkward direction, broken by the fact that Jimin snapped it over his own shoulder. His face was tattered with bruises and cuts, lips hidden underneath a scar made by the younger male a few moments ago before Hoseok managed to steal the weapon off of him. 

 

Jimin stood in his spot, his eyes were hard. His cheeks were cut and purple blotches were printed on his face. The corner of his lip was cut and blood escaped the wound, trickling downwards and landing on top of the fabric that made his shirt. Hoseok shuffled forward, the end of the gun pointing towards Jimin. His actions did not waver, and his eyes did not move. The electric blue colour didn't even dim; Jimin’s hand instantly went to his own arm, fingers clasping tightly to stop the muscle in his arm from whining and groaning at him, begging him to stop. “What are you waiting for, Hoseok?” He paused, “You've got me backed up against a wall and a gun pointed right at my heart.” Jimin spoke up, voice levelled unexpectedly, “just do it.”

 

“Let me ask you a question.” Hoseok started, voice no where near the same as its owners, “where is Jungkook?”

 

“He was never here.” Jimin answered, “you’ll never get him, whoever you are.”

 

Hoseok laughed like as if Jimin was stupid, “no, no, I’m not here to get him.” He simply stated, mouth already twitched into a smile, “I’m here to kill him.” Jimin's heart sped, watching Hoseok fling the gun around as he spoke, “he is his father’s greatest weakness, even if the bastard doesn’t show it at all, but it’s true.” The man in Hoseok added, “and I plan to end that failed relationship.” Without anything else being wasted, the gun was back onto Jimin’s frame, the gun now cocked, “anything else to say?”

 

Jimin took a deep breath in, smirking as he released that air, “you are not going to kill anyone today.”

 

“Ironic.”

 

Then the bullet was set loose.

 

He had waited for the impact, but there was none. His eyes snapped opened and his shriek was deafening and his tears glistened in his eyes, and the male's name was the word he shouted. The younger's chest jittered, blood started to splutter from his neck; his lips had chapped, more blood started running in rivulets, escaping from the gnash in his neck. His eyes casted to Jimin, his eyes catching tears of their own. “Fuck, stay with me.” Jimin called out to the male, fingers clasping at the wound as he tried to fight his tears. He applied more pressure onto the wound, hoping that it would stop the bleeding but the younger made groaning protests. “Shh, I need you to shut up for a second—”

 

“Funny, never really thought of shooting him so soon.”

 

Jimin snapped his view up to Hoseok and he advanced in incredible speed. His arms shot out and he shoved Hoseok to the ground; he clenched his jaw and the tears just kept spilling, “give me back Jung Hoseok right now!” He screamed, punching the male’s face over and over again, “you bastard!” Then he was ripped off Hoseok’s limp frame by a pair of hands, but Jimin's screaming didn’t die and he flailed his limbs around, eyes clouded.

 

Taehyung watched as Jin wrapped a large, warm towel around the smaller male; Jungkook's shoulders shook, and his chest convulsed with half-breaths. He saw the hurt in Jimin's eyes; whatever happened, it must have been ugly. He gathered his remaining courage and walked forward, moving towards the elder. He managed to reach the boy—Jimin leaped, arm extended with a dagger clasped in his hand. The dagger stopped short, the tip of its blade barely touching Taehyung's chest. The male's breathing did not calm and his wild eyes found themselves looking into the elder's own and he immediately broke into a silent sob. Taehyung caught him just before he could collapse, settling him onto the bed. He tried to hug Jimin but opted against it, knowing the latter must’ve broken more bones that he could see. “What happened?” He mouthed towards Jin.

 

“I don’t even know anymore.” Jin mouthed in return.

 

—————

 

“What do you mean by Hoseok losing his mind!?” Namjoon shrieked, “and what do you mean by Jimin has gone down completely and Jungkook was attacked, too!?”

 

“Nam.” Jin said sternly, hand reaching out to grasp at the leader’s arm, “please calm down. It’s alright now: we have Hoseok back with us, JImin’s gone to rest, and we told Yoongi to take care of Jungkook.”

 

Said male staggered and held his face within his hands as he groaned, feeling himself making contact with the floor. “I cannot take this anymore, the more we find ourselves closer to the guy, the more insane we become.” He paused, shaking his head, “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt, hyung.”

 

“Then don’t.” Jin said in response, “let’s finish the job quickly, and then we can relax.”

 

“Easier said than done, hyung.”

 

“I know, but I’m trying to keep optimistic here.”

 

—————

 

Jungkook opened his eyes slowly. Like, very slowly so he wouldn’t feel dizzy—he felt broken all over. Thank goodness it wasn’t all mentally, but his body was waning with all the injuries he had. He turned to the side and found himself looking towards Jongin; he gasped out and began fumbling to a sit, but was halted instantaneously and he hissed, grabbing at his side as it started to sting mercilessly, “geez!”

 

“My word exactly,” Jongin puffed out, aiding the kid back into his previous position, “don’t move so fast since you just recovered from that wound, and now you have a wound to the neck. So, stop moving about like as if I’m gonna hurt you.”

 

The younger male stilled, and his eyes drooped in tire, “how’s Jimin hyung?” He asked.

 

“He’s resting.” Came Jongin’s response, “ended up with a lot of broken bones, including his face—I know it doesn’t sound very good, but at least he’s still perfectly fine.”

 

“My job was to protect him—it was **my** job.”

 

_Hyung, can I please protect him?_

 

_What for?_

 

_Well, he did save me the first time we met, so I might as well repay that._

 

“He wasn’t supposed to get hurt, but because of me, he did.” Jungkook added, “and then he had to see me so broken and lost, and then he was hurt by Hoseok, and I couldn’t even stop him from getting hurt—I wasn’t even with him!” He started to yell, “do you know much it hurts to break a promise you made to a guy who is saving your life over and over again?”

 

Jongin didn’t say anything. He knew it was best to keep quiet and let Jungkook rage over.

 

“He’s going to die if I keep this up!”

 

_Jungkook… hey, kid._

 

_What is it, hyung?_

 

_Why are you so—_

 

_I like you, hyung._

 

_Jeon Jungkook, what are you playing at—_

 

_I really do. I really do like you, hyung…_

 

_I have Taehyung, Jungkook… I’m sorry._

 

“I can’t afford to lost anyone!”

 

Jongin ignored the last line and hugged the male within his clutch, pulling the child against his frame as he held him. “Please stop, Jungkook… you won’t do such things. Jimin won’t die, and everyone won’t succumb to your father’s beatings so easily. They are here to protect you, to help you. Let them do what they need to do—it is for you, everything is.” He paused, “they’re _your_ family now, and your mother would be so proud that you found them.”

 

Jungkook just wept in Jongin’s arms, sniffing back a throat clenching shout as he was being rocked, _mother_ , he thought, _are you really proud? Are you happy that I found uncle? That I found Jimin hyung? Jin hyung? If you really are proud of your broken child… find father._

 

There was a thunderous clap that rung in the sky, and then the door slammed open—Jungkook pulled himself out of Jongin’s hold and realised it was Yoongi, who looked like he had been running his heart out (the panting) and had been sprinting through the rain (the fact that he was went from head to toe). his chest rose and fell rather quickly, and he spluttered: “they found the base!”

 

_Mother?_

 

_I was always proud of you… ever since the very beginning, sweetheart._

 

Jungkook was pulled from the bed and he groaned, “are you sure I’m allowed to go, uncle?”

 

“Well, you have every right to kill the bastard,” he shrugged a shoulder loosely, “I don’t see why you shouldn’t go.”

 

The child looked towards Yoongi, who threw his arms up, “don’t look at me, I have no idea that you’re going and I don’t really plan on saying anything to stop you.”

 

“Thanks,” Jungkook struggled to find his voice, “hyung.”

 

“Now, come on,” Yoongi scoffed, throwing a set of brass knuckles towards Jungkook, “we have a bastard to kill.”

 

—————

 

The plan was simple, Namjoon said. He would attack (with Yoongi) the right hand side whilst Taehyung and JImin had the top, Jin and Hoseok had the left and Jungkook… well, he was the bait. He wasn’t alone, though. He was with Jongin, which made it all the worse because Jeongmin hated the dick out of Jongin and would kill him a million times if he could. The two advanced to the front and was immediately spotted. They didn’t get to walk three steps and was already cornered. In the middle of the dozens of men, was Jungkook’s father, looking so haggard. Jungkook gave the old man a glare and snarled, “well, you’re looking mighty and high.”

 

“Be quiet, you ungrateful child,” his father growled at him, “wait ‘til I get my hands on you… bring them both in.”

 

Without hesitation, the pair were thrown into the building and were dragged inside. Jongin was ripped away and to the opposite side of the building. Shit. This wasn’t in the plan! Far above, Jimin had to hold himself down from hitting the roof with all his force—Jongin was supposed to stay with Jungkook since the latter’s father was _that_ predictable and wanted to hurt his uncle in front of his eyes. Why wouldn’t the bastard anyway? Jongin had butted into his life once more and Jeongmin shouldn’t be all the hesitant to hurt him in front of Jungkook. Nonetheless, Jimin pressed his earpiece in, making it come alive, “duck, this ain’t good. We have to end up attacking all around.”

 

_“Shit, did he take Jongin into another room? And why the hell am I called the duck?”_

 

 _“He’s on my side.”_ Jin’s voice crackled.  _“It’s because you look like one, Nam."_

 

 _“I thought this guy was predictable!”_ Hoseok yelped,  _“by the way, I’m horse, right?”_

 

“He is! Just not really—and stop talking about the codes we gave each other! If you want to feel better, mine’s Monkey.” Taehyung hissed out as he moved further away from Jimin; he also tried to ignore Jimin’s giggle at the mention of his code name. He gave his lover a glare before he spoke up again, “look, we need to attack all around and quick beause once he has his hands on Jungkook, it’s going to get so nasty.”

 

“Tae and I will split up but we will attack from above. Turtle—” a snort from Yoongi, “—what’s your say?”

 

_“Like what Namjoon wanted Taehyung and I to do… give them hell.”_

 

Then, on schedule Jin bombarded the left hand side of the building with Hoseok hot on his tail. They attacked whoever they saw; bullets fired, and bodies fell. It was like the first mission Hoseok had all over again—though this time, it was a tad bit messier than he remembered. Jin, on the other hand, was having fun… though he didn’t show it. He whipped out his daggers and began to dance—intricate movements of offence and defence; dodged multiple shots to the head, legs, and arms, then attacked with full force. 

 

On the right hand side, Namjoon poured in through: skidding, sliding, dodging and hacking as he tried to get through the line of defence; it was heavier than expected, but Namjoon didn’t mind, they would all perish under their hands in no time.

 

Namjoon's group was infamous for their vast capability in offence and defence. Not to mention that they were able to cover up their tracks. They were smart, agile, and deadly and each member has their own special ability, ranging from the brain-wrecking mission of hacking the military database to the simple task of killing. All has their own story to tell, but no one was allowed to say anything. No one was supposed to know them, see them nor hear them. They were basically the ghosts of the city.

 

Yoongi was the ghost. He appeared here and there, like as if he melted within the shadows. Using only his whip, numerous men were wounded instantly.

 

 _“Remember, don’t kill any of them! Just Chaos!”_ Namjoon screamed through the earpiece.

 

The older male wanted to hit Namjoon’s face for the stupid command, but realised it was the best since the police were aiming for their heads ever since those days.

 

From above, Jimin and Taehyung tore through the glass and both landed on a goon, ripping away their oxygen with their legs in mere seconds. Jimin jumped down from his victim first and attacked the rest of the men on his left whilst Taehyung got his right. Clangs of swords filled the area and the smell of blood just pummelled. Taehyung jumped and aimed down, smashing the goon’s leg with his fist; he heard the scream of pain before he knocked him out. He spun on his heels just in time to watch Jimin come back out from wherever he was and listened intently: “Jongin’s on the left hand side, and Jungkook’s on the right—they’re both underground!”

 

“Go and get Jungkook—I’ll get Jongin!”

 

The two separated with ease, killing the rest of their targets. “We’re clear upstairs.” Jimin said, voice gone harsh as the killing, “I’m getting the kid and Ta—I mean, Monkey’s—”

 

_“Just Tae will do, sweetheart.”_

 

“He’s got Jongin.” Jimin continued from Taehyung’s intervention. He ran down the stairs and jumped over the numerous bodies left by Yoongi, and took only glimpse at their work—but he really couldn’t because all he heard was a spray of you-know-what and thuds here and there. _These guys are terribly terrifying when they are needed to be_. Jimin thought with a gulp as he ran down the steps that led to the room underground. He was ambushed by five, but easily took them down and found himself being pushed to a door. He wasn’t really pushed, but he had fallen over an arm and ended up pushing the door open with his fall. “Jungkook!” He screamed out, trying to find the boy in the dark.

 

“Father’s still here!”

 

Jimin whipped around and blocked an attack to the head with his arms, well-nigh screaming his heart out when he felt his arms dwindle underneath the sheer force he had to hold. He was thrown towards Jungkook (and he knew because the kid yelped while trying to catch Jimin) and he rolled to the side, only to be straddled by the man whom he called himself the child’s father. He hindered the strike to his face and pushed the older male off his build. “Jungkook, get that door open! Jongin’s in there!”

 

Said boy ran to the door as fast as he could, trying to untie the bond at the door. He groaned in frustration when it didn’t bother to budge at his will and turned around—but regretted that choice immediately and turned back round to try and get the door open. Without warning, the door was shoved open and out came Jongin with Taehyung behind him, “uncle!”

 

“Jung—”

 

“Kim Jongin!” Chaos—Jeongmin—screamed out as he tossed Jimin aside like a doll he’d become. He stood, overpowering Jungkook with the anger radiated from the aura he threw.

 

Said male advanced with Jungkook’s bras knuckle and threw a right uppercut, the metal hitting the bone of Jeongmin’s chin with a satisfying crack. Jeongmin was caught off his feet and Jongin took the oppotunity: “get Jimin, and get everyone out of here!”

 

Taehyung made no move to hesitate; he rushed over to grab Jimin from the cold floor and ran out with the speed no one knew he had. Jungkook wavered, but found it better to go since his uncle had the energy to defeat his father whilst the kid… he had nothing. He ran out from undergound and rushed over to the group. “We need out—”

 

“But you surely can’t go through us.”

 

Jungkook and the rest whipped their heads up to face the new voice, and the kid paled instantly. There were at least 30 men, and more were incoming. They couldn’t fight all of them, not at this rate: Jimin was down; Namjoon had his right arm nearly torn off by the shoulder; Jin was going blind with the blood in his eyes; Yoongi… he could still fight; Hoseok was heavily limping, and Taehyung… this one could fight, too. But Jungkook really doubted the energy everyone had left.

 

But that was when everything—

 

“Sir!” Namjoon and the rest were utterly shocked by the voice and looked up, that was when they found a helicopter, or three, of Namjoon’s other men coming in. They dropped in front of the septet and the leader of the newcomers gave Namjoon a grin, “think we would leave you to do this on your own, sir?”

 

“I wasn’t doubting in the least.”

 

“Now get on and out of here.”

 

The seven took a detour around the fight with Taehyung lagging behind since Jimin on his back—with all the difficulty in the world, they managed to get outside, and Jin pulled Jimin off Taehyung’s back, checking if he was still—

 

“I'm fine,” Jimin groaned as he pulled himself up onto his feet, “my body feels like it’s been hit by pedestrians too many times.”

 

“Well, technically…”

 

“Don’t say it.”

 

Namjoon held in his hands up in surrender, “okay, okay! No need to get your boxers in a twist—”

 

Jungkook’s snort surprised Namjoon and out of his sentence, “can we just go home?”

 

Yoongi made a move first, but was stopped half way into step by a voice behind them. They all turned around and it was Jongin, running after the man whom Jungkook hated from the bottom of his soul, and then they heard the scream: “Jungkook, get out of the way!”

 

Said male was caught within time—he was pushed to the ground and felt the blood splatter over his face. No one made a move for the next fractions of the second until Jungkook lifted his head up, only to find his mother’s blade that protruded from the boy's chest, leaving him gasping for air. The boy had left himself fall vulnerable to any attack, that's why this attack was successful. Blood made its way out from the corner of his mouth, falling slowly down his neck, seeping into the cloth that made his shirt. Noises boomed around him. Lights flashed in his eyes. All he ever heard was a shout of his name and then... nothing. He could feel his weight falling backwards, numerous shadows danced in front of him. All he saw was a cloud of black looming over him, then the image slowly became clearer and clearer until... “Tae—Taehyung...” He croaked as his body convulsed; electric shocks invaded his muscles, his fingers curving to form tight fists.

 

It hurt.

 

“Ssh.” Taehyung said, his voice trembling as he himself shook; mouth quivering into a small smile, “you're gonna be fine,” he assured him, hands fumbling to stop the bleeding, “I promise—Namjoon’s coming.”

 

The boy averted his gaze behind Taehyung, watching two other members of his team hang his attacker by the neck as he felt hands on his chest. He looked back at the hands, watching them cover up the wound. He could hear the silent screams that his attacker emitted, and he could hear the sound of multiple whips. The boy weakly latched onto Taehyung's wrist and he coughed, “ta—take care of everyone... promise... me.”

 

God, it hurt so much that he didn't want to live anymore.

 

“Shut up! I'm not letting you die, you hear!?” Taehyung kept a hard grip on Jimin's chest, trying his hardest to stop the bleeding, his eyes glassy with tears. “Don't let yourself fade yet, you idiot!”

 

“Tae…”

 

The said boy looked at the other, eyebrows furrowing as he finally came to realise. **No, please, don't go yet. I still haven't gotten the chance to say what I want to say– pleasepleasepleasepleasedon’tgo.**

 

“I... I cannot hold on… a—any longer...” The boy croaked as he spluttered out blood, “please... promise me that... you'll protect… ev—everyone…”

 

“You can't just—”

 

“Tae.” He said again, raising his hand up to stroke the latter's cheek; fingers darting in circles, shaking near violently, “I can't see…” Taehyung broke. Pulling his hand from the boy's chest to grab the other's hand that stayed on his cheek. He felt the other's skin getting cold; he saw the latter's face getting paler by the second. He saw his eyes fading in and out of life, clouded by tears that have yet to fall. “Thank you... for everything…”

 

The boy's hand went slack.

 

And the world was shattered by the screams from the kid, and from the lover.


	3. Chapter II (Teaser)

Hongbin woke up to a single light flashing onto his right eye; he twitched once and was helped into a sitting position. It was a very slow move, but he already felt his spine cracking over and over again like as if he had gone old in a couple of… hours? How long had it passed? It felt like it had been a couple of minutes, but the feeling in his collapsed muscles felt like it had been— “You were out for two weeks, Bin.”


End file.
